Daffodils of the Meadow
by OceansAria
Summary: Things have calmed down in Storybrooke at last. No more curses, no more villains trying to take over the town. Emma and Killian have moved in together and started their future - until something happens to bring everything to a screeching halt
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello lovelies!_**

 ** _I got back into OUAT and this is the result._**

 ** _More chappies to come hopefully!_**

 ** _XOXO,_**

 ** _OceansAria :)_**

* * *

 ** _"Oh, um, no thanks."_** Emma shoved the rum flask away when Killian offered it up.

Killian chuckled, eyebrow quirked in curiosity. "'No thanks'? What? Suddenly lost your taste for the spirits, lass?"

"No, of course not." _Play it cool._ Giving a sly smile, Emma pushed her hand under his jacket and squeezed his side closer to her middle. "I just would like to be in my right mind for the rest of the evening, if that's okay with you."

"That's more than okay with me, luv."

He took a swig, sated with her excuse and the kiss she gave his cheek. The two of them took a gander at the party going on around them. Granny's Diner was in full swing this particular Friday night in celebration of Henry's fourteenth birthday. All of the kids from Henry's class were there, as well as many of the kids from Camelot and the Realm of Untold Stories. The jukebox was jumping, the kids were high on sugar, and the chatter was loud and chipper.

"We're chaperones, remember? So don't get too hammered."

"No worries, sweetheart. I know my limits."

Emma's head was ready to explode. She'd had a lot of headaches lately; any little thing seemed to trigger them. And the smell of Granny's famous lasagna was having the opposite effect on her than it usually did. She kept her eye on the bathrooms at the back, looking for a path through the partying teenagers just in case she needed to hurl.

 _Play it cool,_ she reminded herself. Her grip on Killian's vest was tight, her fingers sweaty. _The party will end soon and then you can go home and act like everything is normal._

"Mom!" Henry jumped out in front of her. Emma startled but was quick to force another smile. "This party is amazing! How did you do all this so quickly?"

"Well, she had a little help," mock-pouted Killian.

Henry turned his grateful grin on his mother's boyfriend. "Thanks, Killian. It's—it's nice to do something, I don't know, _normal_ in this town for once."

"Normal?" Killian echoed incredulously. "You were just slow dancing with a maiden from Camelot. Before that, you were play sword-fighting with Pinocchio. I think we've left normal far behind on the shore, my boy."

"This is as normal as my life will ever be," laughed Henry.

"Anything for you, kid." Emma kissed her son's forehead and sent him on his way back to his friends, reminding him to thank Regina and his grandparents too. She watched his head as he bobbed through the crowd—he was getting taller every day—until her boyfriend's voice drew her back to the spot.

"Are you all right, Swan?"

The gentle whisper in her ear would have usually brought comfort and ease. But now it did nothing but irritate Emma. Instead of answering him flippantly as she had done for the past few weeks, she let go of his vest, stepped back, and mumbled something about getting more punch.

Just like the past few weeks, Killian didn't stop her. He let her go, allowed her to brush him off.

Emma passed by the diner's counter that was doubling as the refreshments table and dropped off her punch cup. Thinking she was in the clear, she beelined for the bathroom and shut the door behind her, not thinking or having the time to lock it before she made it to the toilet just in the knick of time.

As soon as she was done retching, Emma dragged herself to her feet, swished water in her mouth, and patted the beads of sweat off her face with a brown paper towel.

Someone knocked on the door just as she was spraying air freshener.

"Just a minute!"

"Emma?" It was Snow on the other side of the door.

Emma froze. She hastily checked the bathroom for any evidence of what had just happened before opening the door and coming face to face with her mother.

"Sorry, I just wasn't feeling good—"

Snow took one look at her daughter's face and instantly pressed the back of her hand to Emma's forehead. "You're warm," she muttered, eyebrows drawn and lips pursed. "Are you feeling okay? Maybe you should go home and rest—"

Emma was quick to shut down her mother's musings. "No, no—I'm fine, Mom. I think I just ate a few too many cake pops. All that sugar after being on such a strict diet—"

"Oh, that's right," Snow chimed in, though she still looked suspicious. "You're on that juice cleanse."

Emma went stiff all over. "Yeah. I am."

"How much longer are you doing that? I mean, honey, you don't need to lose any weight. You're beautiful just the way you are."

Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes. It was still a little odd for a woman her age to be her mom and treat her like the little girl she wasn't.

"Thanks, Mom," she sighed. "And it's only a few more days. Then I'll be back to guzzling hot cocoa and wolfing down hamburgers. Promise."

Snow frowned. "Okay, honey," she conceded. She still watched her daughter walk back into the fray of the party before heading into the bathroom herself.

Emma returned to Killian, who was discussing something with David. At the soonest pause, she interrupted to tell both her father and her boyfriend that she was going to check on Henry and then head home early.

David was the first to jump straight to worry. "Why? Are you feeling okay?" His blue eyes searched his daughter's uneasily. "Maybe you should get off this juice cleanse early."

Emma scoffed gently. _I swear they don't just share a heart. It's like they're attached at the brain._ "I'm _fine_ , Dad. Planning this party tired me out. I'm gonna go home, see what's on Netflix, and hit the hay." She turned to go.

Killian caught her sleeve with his hook and went to follow her. "I'll go with you—"

" _No_."

Startled, David and Killian stared, mouths a little bit agape.

Emma shook herself and mended: "I mean, it's okay. Stay here. Enjoy the party. Don't let me ruin your fun."

"I'm sure we can have just as much fun or more back at home," jested Killian in a soft purr.

David glared at him; the pirate shied away from the prince's glower.

Emma's smile was almost real this time.

"Don't worry about me, guys." She leaned forward and kissed Killian in a quick goodbye. His lips were unforgiving and did not respond to hers. She acted like she hadn't noticed by giving another soft smile.

Swinging open the diner door, Emma called, "See you at home."

* * *

 ** _Emma's strange behavior had begun many weeks before_** when she checked the _My Monthly Cycle_ app on her phone and realized that she was late by two months. This had happened before—with the traveling between realms and time, her cycle had gotten messed up previously. But in the times before when she had gotten off track, she wasn't having sex with anyone.

They had always been safe, the two of them. Birth control. Rubbers. They never rushed in unprotected. But something had happened—something had messed up—and now she was terrified of that outcome.

The first time this had happened to her over thirteen years ago, she was alone, imprisoned, and barely an adult. This time—if it were to be believed—she was in her early thirties, in a good relationship with a good man, and surrounded by family.

Still.

It was pretty damn terrifying.

Her first thought was to wait. _Wait and see. Play it cool._ Maybe her period would start in a few days. Maybe this was nothing to be worried about.

So she waited.

Another week passed.

No period.

She stopped drinking just to be careful. The smell of cooking meat suddenly made her queasy. All the evidence was popping up but she ignored it.

Two weeks passed and she caved in and bought a pregnancy test.

After it popped up positive she tossed in the dumpster behind Granny's and prayed that no one would discover it and ask around. In the mornings, when she was sick, she would get up and go downstairs to the guest bathroom before Killian was awake. By the time he was on the scene, all evidence of her morning sickness was flushed away and hidden by an expertly lit candle.

She hid it very well. She didn't ask for help. She made up the juice cleanse so she could have good excuses to eating and drinking. Everyone around her thought it was strange, since Emma wasn't one to worry about what she ate.

Emma went to the first and second doctor's appointments all by herself, having made sure to book them with her former OBGYN in Boston. On those days when she disappeared, she made excuses to her family and friends that involved trips of leisure or business. They were slow to believe her both times—but in the end they accepted those reasons.

She was almost through the first trimester. After her second doctor's appointment, she had decided to tell everyone once she hit the three month mark just to be sure that everything went okay up to that point. She didn't want to get everyone excited just to let them down if she had a miscarriage.

But every day it got harder. Every morning when she woke up next to her pirate she felt sick from more than just the pregnancy. She wanted to tell him; she had promised to be honest and had intended to keep that promise till her last heartbeat. But she couldn't tell him, not yet. If she told him, being the good man he was, Killian would propose. She didn't want a shotgun wedding. If she told her parents, they would start planning a wedding or a baby shower or both right away. If she told anybody, she couldn't continue to live the life, the _future_ , she had just settled into.

Everything would change.

Everything already _had_.

* * *

 **She couldn't sleep.**

 _Again._

When she laid awake on these nights, she recalled how many sleepless nights passed in prison when she was pregnant with Henry. How her belly grew and his feet kicked out a rhythm inside her womb and she no longer felt alone in the world for those few precious months.

This baby's not made much of a debut yet other than the morning sickness. Lying there in the dark, Emma slid her palm over her abdomen, and gasped when she felt the tiniest bump beginning.

"Hey there, kid," she whispers to the bump. "You've got to let me sleep, okay?"

"Swan?"

Startled, Emma sat straight up in the bed and reached for the lamp on the bedside table. Killian's eyes went wide as he tiptoed into the bedroom, boots under one arm and a his only hand risen in surrender.

"It's me, luv. You can put the alarm clock down."

Emma glanced at the object she'd grabbed in a hurry to fling at the so-it-seemed intruder. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. I didn't hear you come in." She set the alarm clock down, feeling embarrassed and a little stupid. _Play it cool, dammit._

Killian set down his boots and set about undressing for bed. The last thing to come off was the hook. They chatted about Henry's party as he got into bed with her and pulled her close, kissing her neck and her cheeks slowly, luxuriously, and she shut off the lamp as they sunk beneath the duvet together.

In the middle of everything, he stopped kissing her just long enough to ask:

"What was all that about tonight, luv?"

"All what?" She ran her fingers over his necklace, playing with the charms.

"You leaving early. You were very flushed—and you're still rather warm now. Are you running a fever?" His hands left her waist to press against her cheeks and her neck, checking for overheated skin.

Emma faked a giggle to try and laugh off his concern. She kissed him again, molding the top half of her body to his. The heady sea air and musk smell of him made her fall so easily, so quickly.

" _You're_ what's got me running a fever, pirate."

Killian chuckled however his eyes, flashing in the moonlight, were stony and distressed. His thumb rubbed back and forth against her jaw. "Emma," he murmured, all business.

 _Oh crap. He never calls me Emma unless—_

"What's wrong? You've been acting strange of late."

Emma rolled over onto her back and broke his touch. It was like coming up for air after a close-call drowning.

"I told you. I'm fine. It's probably just the juice cleanse making me cranky."

He reached for her in attempt to bring her back to him, but she not-so-gently batted off his advances and rolled completely to face the wall.

"Perhaps you should give up this juice cleanse and begin eating real food again, Swan," he suggested almost playfully. "You're not yourself these days, my love."

Emma said nothing more on the subject. Forcing herself to breathe deeply and evenly, she made it appear that she had fallen asleep. Killian attempted to speak to her again, whispering _Swan_? but only received the cold shoulder.

"Fine," he muttered into the dark. "You'll come around eventually, lass. You'll allow access into the stubborn head of yours."

Only after he had dropped off into his own dreams did Emma roll over and face him again. She played with the chain around his neck and kissed his bare shoulder.

"Give me one more week, Killian," she sighed. "One more week."

* * *

 **Emma's next doctor's appointment** was four days after Henry's birthday. On that day, she made the excuse that she was going to meet an old friend outside of town and wouldn't be back until late that night.

 _Who's this old friend?_ Snow had asked as they sent her off. _We'd like to meet any of your friends from your past, Emma._

 _She's just someone I knew from the foster care system. She wanted to meet—just the two of us. But, y'know, maybe someday._

The appointment was quick and easy; Emma passed every test with flying colors. She and the baby were both perfectly healthy. So far, so good.

"You're bringing the daddy next time, right?" asked Dr. Hannigan as she lead Emma back to the lobby.

Emma shrugged. "I think so."

"And this is your first child?"

"Well, _my_ second. _His_ first."

"Oh. Gotcha." Dr. Hannigan smiled. The young doctor was shorter than Emma, with a cute stacked bob and green eyes. "Then he'll definitely be excited. Our next visit you'll be able to tell whether you've got a little boy or a little girl on the way."

Emma's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. Really? That soon?"

"Oh, yeah. Advances in technology have made it so that we'll be able to really tell without any mishaps."

"Mishaps?"

"There's been the occasional mix up," laughed Dr. Hannigan. She handed over Emma's file to the secretary. "It was good to see you, Emma. Have a great couple weeks and I'll see you—and the daddy to be—next time!"

On the drive back to Storybrooke, Emma stopped at a McDonald's drive thru and devoured a Big Mac and large fry. Barely thirty minutes later, she stopped to hurl it all up. _Okay, I get it. You're not loving red meat, kid. I guess that means I won't either for the next few months._ By the time the yellow bug was rolling down Main Street and had come to a complete and final stop in front of Granny's, Emma was clutching the sonogram and seriously considering turning around and speeding back to Boston.

 _I have to tell him. He's the father, for crying out loud! He deserves to know._

Granny's was lit up inside and out, casting warmth on Emma as she hesitantly walked up the way and treaded at the door. She could see the dwarves lined up at the counter inside, her parents in a booth with Neal in the corner, and Henry at a two-top enjoying hot cocoa with Regina.

Her heart stopped and restarted when she saw Killian at the jukebox, dropping in a coin to change the music.

Emma opened the door. She caught her mother's eye first and gave Snow the first genuine smile in weeks. She waved to her dad and her little brother. She squeezed Henry's shoulder as she passed.

"Killian?"

Her pirate turned around and gave her his most charming grin. "Welcome back, Swan," he punctuated with a quick peck to her lips. "Care for a drink?" He held out his half-drank ale, but she fended off the offer with a kind fingertip.

"Actually, I need to talk to you."

Killian leaned against the jukebox and took a deep sip of beer, gesturing for her to go ahead.

"Can we . . . can you just . . . come with me?"

Curious, Killian stood up straight and did as Emma asked without question or protest. The two of them stepped into the small back hallway that lead to the bathrooms and gave them the tiniest bit of privacy.

"All right, Swan. Out with it."

Emma smiled, teasing him now. She took the mug of beer from his hand and set it aside before starting the speech she'd practiced over and over on the ride home.

"I know I've been acting weird the past couple of weeks. I had a good reason for it. Something's . . . well, something's happened."

" . . . Swan? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said for what felt like the millionth time but this time she meant it and she found that this fueled her fire, and so she spoke with renewed strength. "What happened is a good thing. The juice cleanse was a farce. I faked that to keep you guys from prying too much."

"Swan." Killian took her by the arms and gave her a gentle squeeze, his expression irritated but still curious. " _Out with it,_ lass."

She smiled. It, again, was genuine. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the sonogram. The photo was face down as she held it out to Killian. He went to pinch it from between her fingers, but she stopped him for just a moment.

"I want you to know something first," she said in a low voice. "The reason I kept this from you . . . was to protect not just you, but everyone else. If something had gone wrong before now, it would have left you all heartbroken and I couldn't have taken that."

Then she let him take the sonogram from her. She let him turn it over, and then she sat back and watched every millisecond of his reaction.

First, his eyebrows raised.

Second, he frowned. It wasn't a bad frown—but a confused one.

Third, his face went blank. His eyes glassed over with mist and he glanced up at his girlfriend, breaking into the most brilliant, blissful, heart-rendering grin.

"Is this—"

Emma nodded over-eagerly. "Yes."

"Are you—" Killian pointed to her seemingly flat belly.

" _Yes_."

They both breathed a laugh and then they were clutching each other and nearly crying with relief and happiness and when they broke apart Killian couldn't stop staring at the tiny sonogram and Emma couldn't stop staring at him.

"This is—"

"I know."

"Swan, I'm so—"

"Me too."

He kissed her then. Passionate and hard, pressing her against the wall until neither of them could breathe.

"Maybe we should stop—this could harm the child—"

Emma shook her head and snuck another kiss. "We still have to tell everyone else though. My parents, Henry . . ."

"Aye. That we do." He stepped back and the two of them glanced out into the dining area. "They're all out there now. We should go on and tell them the good news."

"You don't want to wait? Keep this between us for a few days?"

Killian brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed each one. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright. He resembled joy in human form.

"No. No more secrets. They're your family, Swan. They deserve to know."

"They're _our_ family," she said softly.

Killian's smile couldn't haven't gotten wider, but it did.

"Aye, lass. We should tell _our_ _family_ the good news."

Hand in hand, the pirate and the savior stepped out into the diner and picked up the first thing their eyes landed on—a glass and a fork. The metallic tapping grabbed everyone's attention immediately.

With all eyes on them, Emma glanced to Killian for support. He smiled again and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

 _Go ahead, Swan_ , he mouthed.

She nodded and cleared her throat.

"Everyone, we, um, we have an announcement to make."


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter was hell to write.**

 **I really struggled with it and I'm still not content.**

 **Also, if you're a reader/follower of my BETHYL story "In the Eye" be prepared for an upcoming update.**

 **XOXO,**

 **OceansAria :)**

* * *

"Killian?"

"Yes, luv?"

"I—uh, I kind of need you."

"I'm cooking breakfast, darling. What is it?"

Emma sighed. She leaned against the bedpost heavily, hand on her lower back, pressing where the now-constant ache in her spine reigned.

"I can't get my shoes on."

"I'm sorry—what did you say?" called Killian. "I'm afraid I can't hear you."

Emma sighed again and trudged to the top of the staircase. At the bottom stood her boyfriend in full housewife garb—an apron spattered with pancake batter, a spatula attached to his hook, and a dishcloth over his shoulder.

She looked everywhere but at his face as she confessed through gritted teeth:

"I. _Can't_. Get. My. Shoes. _On_."

Killian took one look at her pink cheeks and chuckled deep in his throat.

"Oh, come now, lass. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Says you! I'm not even six months into this thing and I'm already too wide too zip up my boots!"

"You're not _that_ wide, Swan! You still cut quite the figure . . ." He wiggled his eyebrows as he gave her frame a sultry once over. "Even if it is a rounder one."

Wide-eyed with rage, Emma chucked one of her boots straight at his stupid pirate head. Killian ducked just in time and the boot sailed over his head and into the kitchen.

"Are you gonna help me or _not_?" she huffed, arms crossed above her belly.

Killian softened, hoping to ease her. "I'll be right up, luv. The pancakes' are about to turn black as pitch so give me a moment if you will."

Emma paced back into their bedroom and kept pacing until Killian came upstairs, now apron-less and spatula-less but with her other boot in hand.

"Have a seat, Swan," he coaxed.

Emma glared at the rocking chair David had brought over and placed by the bed. "I won't be able to get back up," she complained, hating to admit to another thing she wasn't able to do now. She glanced to Killian just in time to catch the end of a muffled snigger.

She glared and he shut up real quick.

"I'll help you up, darling."

Taking her hand, the pirate guided Emma to sit in the rocking chair, knelt, and set to work putting on her boots. Once the socks were on zippers were zipped, he stood again, and allowed Emma hold onto his shoulders to get up.

"See? Was that so troublesome?" he kissed her brow even as she scowled at him. "Now, come downstairs and eat. Your parents will be waiting on us."

Emma took his hand as they descended the staircase side by side. "I still don't see why we have to go," she pouted. The pregnancy had made her incredibly moody and prone to pouting and irritability.

"To the baby shower they're throwing in our honor?" huffed Killian, shaking his head. "Swan, what's gotten into you this morning?"

"I don't know." With help once again from her boyfriend, she sat down at the breakfast table and started on the shortstack. "I'm tired of all the hovering and the pampering and the overprotective crap. I'm pregnant—not a freakin', fragile china doll!"

Killian hid his laughter as he passed by behind his girlfriend to get to his own seat across from her. "Aye, lass. No one views you as a collectable figurine. It's all right. Calm down now before you upset yourself and harm the child."

"Just because I'm _upset_ doesn't mean the baby will get _hurt_. That makes no sense by the way—"

Killian set down the syrup bottle and pinched the bridge of his nose as Emma ranted on about how everyone had been overly concerned and wouldn't let her be, stuffing pancake in her mouth and altogether looking more frazzled than he had ever seen her.

"Swan, this isn't like you," he murmured at last, interrupting her stream of anger and resentment by grabbing her hand midair and anchoring it to the spot on the tabletop. "If you wish to stay home and not attend the baby shower, I'm sure we can find a way—"

" _No_ ," Emma blurted, jerking back. Her mouth was full of chewed up pancake. "I'll go. If I don't, I'll _never_ hear the end of it from Snow and David."

Killian resolved not to say another word on the subject; the two of them cleaned up the kitchen and headed out soon afterwards. So far, in the three months since Emma had announced to her boyfriend and to the entire town, the pirate had laid low and played dumb (as well as mute) when it came to matters of the coming child. Emma was easily angered these days—and the only way to survive another three months was to keep his mouth shut, keep his head down, and stay out of his pregnant girlfriend's way.

The baby shower was being held at the Charmings' loft. A pink balloon waved hello in the wind outside of their building; the lightest of mists began to fall as Killian escorted Emma inside.

"Oh _crap_ ," Emma groaned as he raked water droplets from his jacket.

"What is it, luv?"

"There's . . ." Emma sighed as if she were already exhausted. " _Stairs._ "

That tickled the pirate. "Come on then," he jested. He held out his arm jovially and took the first step up. She took his arm and followed his every action, taking each step easy and slow. "That's a good lass," Killian rewarded once they reached the top of the stairs and the Charmings' front door.

Emma's jaw was tight as she regained her breath. "Can't wait to see what they've done with the place."

"Why, knowing your parents, it'll be frilly from top to bottom with glitter on top."

Emma snickered. It was the first laugh he'd gotten from her all morning. But her laughter stopped midway—and she fell mute.

"Killian . . . I'm sorry."

He refrained from prompting her further when she did not go on. The noises of people shuffling about and small talk seeped through the Charmings' front door, filling the silence between the pirate and the savior.

"I've been such a pain in the ass lately."

Still, he let it be. He waited for what she was going to say patiently. Being with the savior, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, an authentic freaking princess—well, the trials and tribulations that had come along with being with Emma Swan had made him an extremely patient man.

"I don't do . . . _fast_. And everything for us . . . has happened so fast. _Too_ fast. One minute, we're settling into our house. We're thinking about our future. We're picking out what color to paint the living room. We're thinking about traveling—and then it's all decided _for_ us."

"Not everything has been decided, darling," he attempted softly, turning to face her. "We are soon to be parents, yes. But having a child will not handicap us from doing everything we wish to do and more. We can still travel the world, Swan. We can still do whatever we please."

Tears swam in her eyes. She didn't protest against him or question his faith in their future, but she did question something else.

"Why are you being so nice to me when I've been such a bitch?"

The pirate grinned widely. His princess could be so fragile at times even if she wished to believe that she was made of steel.

"You're my happy ending. The way I see it, my life does not and never will get better than this and I'm glad for that. Any hardship that you endure, I shall to. _You_ and _our child_ are my happy ending, Swan, and I will bear your snarky remarks and your exhaustion and your rantings for as long as I have to. I will never complain. I will never turn against you. I love you, lass."

He kissed Emma, wiping the tears from her eyes before they had a chance to fall.

"Now, let's go into this baby shower and attempt to at least enjoy ourselves for a little while. Your parents will hang themselves if they don't figure we're having a grand time."

Emma laughed again, and this time it was accompanied by a smile. The tough moment had passed and her mood was balanced out again for the time being.

"Okay. Let's go in."

The moment the door opened, Killian and Emma were peppered from either side by bouts of congratulations, questions about the baby, and inappropriate jokes about their love life. At every turn was another Storybrooke citizen eager to shake their hands and give their opinion about what they should name their child. After a few rounds of being polite and making small talk, Killian found Emma a place to sit on the couch, presents piled high on either side of her, and left to grab refreshments. Since she had gotten over her morning sickness, Emma was now eating five small meals a day and it was definitely feeding time.

"Mom!" Henry came running up to his mother, gift in hand. He leaned down and kissed her cheek in greeting. "Are you having fun? How are you feeling?"

"Hey, kid. I'm fine. I'm so glad you came."

"Of course I came," said Henry. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Or your seven monthiversary with Violet?"

Henry tossed his gift on top of the present pile. "She understood. She's here somewhere." He searched the room for his girlfriend but couldn't find her and gave up. "I just can't believe I'm gonna have a little brother or sister soon. Have you guys picked out a name yet?"

"That seems to be the million dollar question," Emma sighed. "There's a lot of names we like. Mia, Sophie, Caroline, Addison are our top picks for girls. Matthew, Cameron, or, y'know, Liam, for boys." Trailing off, Emma rubbed at her belly. "I didn't get to name you, kid. But I thought about it."

"What were you gonna name me?"

Emma gave him a long look. "Jonathan."

" _Jonathan_?" Henry acted like he was wiping sweat from his brow. "Dodged a bullet there."

Emma smacked his arm. "Hey! It was a popular name back then. I thought I could call you John."

"I am _so_ not a Jonathan, Mom."

"Yeah, I know that now, kid."

Henry reached out and patted his mom's swollen middle. "How about Primrose if it's a girl?"

"Primrose? Like the flower?"

"Yeah! It's a classic. Simple. Pretty. You can call her Rose or Rosie or Prim. Whichever."

"And for a boy?"

Henry smiled. "Liam sounds nice. I'm sure that would make Killian happy."

"Yeah it would." Emma squeezed her son's hand. "I'll definitely keep those in mind."

"You better," teased Henry.

"She better what?" Killian reappeared with two plates of finger foods and two cups of sparkling punch. "Here are your libations, luv." He squatted down next to where she was sitting and held out a plate to her and a plate to Henry.

"We were just talking about what you guys could name the baby."

"Ah, a popular subject this morning. What have you thought up, lad?"

"Primrose for a girl and Liam for a boy."

Killian chewed on the ideas for moment, biting his lower lip. After a moment he smiled. "Aye, lad. Those are good options to keep in mind." He settled onto the floor at Emma's feet with a sigh, his arm slung across her knees. "So, where's your little girlfriend?"

"She's around here somewhere. I think she's talking to Pinocchio."

"Watch it, mate. The puppet boy might be trying to take your woman. I've seen the way he looks at your Violet."

" _Killian_ ," scoffed Emma around a big bite of chip and dip.

"Mom, it's okay," Henry placated. "I know he's just kidding around."

"Your mother's been rather cranky this morning. It's good you're here to keep her civil."

Henry giggled; Emma shot her boyfriend a glare that could cut through a foot of concrete. The three of them sat secluded in their little triangle, eating and talking, until Snow called the room to order and the shower games began. After they finished playing games, it was cake cutting time. After cake came presents, and Emma found herself once again in the middle of a pile of gifts. Wrapping paper and ribbons and bows all in some shade of pink, blue, or yellow.

Present after present circled around to the guests of honor. Killian and Emma went through the motions with each one; they gave a similarly thrilled reaction and thanked the gift giver. They received baby blankets, bottles, onesies, tiny socks, hats, and toys.

Then Henry's gift came around the circle and landed in their laps.

Killian passed the tiny little pale pink gift bag to his girlfriend and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, sitting back in his chair.

"I hope you like it, Mom," chirped Henry from his spot next to Violet.

Underneath a layer of tissue paper is a smaller version of Henry's story book.

The only story inside was the story of how Captain Hook, a villain, fell in love with Emma Swan, the savior. _Their_ story.

Tears came to the expectant mother's eyes. " _Wow_. Henry, I can't-"

Emma was cut off mid-sentence by a moan that erupted from her own mouth. She instantly lost her grip on the book and clutched at her middle, eyes blown wide open and full of terror.

"Swan?!"

"Emma!"

"Mom!"

Emma fell face first out of her chair as her water broke and everything went to hell around her. The partygoers screamed and scurried about, grabbing cellphones and shouting for someone to call 911. Snow and David called for everyone to calm down. Henry rushed forward, kneeling over his mother's prone body, frantically checking for a pulse.

"Mom? Mom!"

Killian was the second to her, pushing the hair back from her eyes and shaking her to consciousness as daylight faded from her vision.

"Swan! Look at me!"

Emma's face contorted gruesomely. She could feel herself losing consciousness no matter how hard she gripped the edge of sanity and the collar of her boyfriend's leather jacket.

"Killian," her breath came hard and fast. "Something's . . . _wrong_."


	3. Chapter 3

**APOLOGIES FOR THE EXTREMELY SHORT CHAPTER DEARIES :)**

* * *

The child of the pirate and the savior was brought into the world through C-Section nearly ten hours later and taken directly to the NICU. Emma was rushed into surgery, where Dr. Whale stitched and sewed her insides back into normalcy.

Killian never left her side.

After surgery, Emma was moved into recovery and Killian was told she needed rest and space which translated to a very polite _leave her the hell alone._

The first faces the pirate saw when he left Emma's recovery room were those of her parents. Frantic, the Charmings' sprung forward into action when they saw Killian.

"How is she? Is she okay? What happened? No one will tell us anything!"

Killian looked from Snow to David, the first tucked under the latter's arm, the two of them looking as if they were on the tipping point between bursting into tears and crying out loud with joy and relief. He knew that with the news he bore there would be an inevitable mixture of both possibilities.

"She's going to be okay."

Snow blinked. " _Going_ to be?"

"What happened?" David interrupted. "Is the baby okay?"

Killian's entire body seized up and he wanted to turn back, go to Emma, and sit there with her until she awoke in silence. He wanted to pretend that the past ten hours hadn't really conspired. He wanted to cast a spell, a curse even, to rewind time back to the baby shower and the happiness he felt swelling in his chest with Emma by his side, healthy and glowing with her pregnancy, their family and friends all around.

Everything was far beyond messed up now and he felt—for the first time since a very young age on his first voyage— _seasick_.

"There was a placental abruption, or so the good doctor has graciously explained to me. Basically, where the baby was being kept inside of Emma's womb . . . it . . . well, it _exploded_."

Snow and David gasped in near unison. "The baby . . .?"

"They rushed Emma into what has now been described to me as a C-section."

David's eyes went misty as he asked, "Did . . . did the baby make it?"

Killian wouldn't look up from the tile floor. He was still dressed in the scrubs the nurses had shoved upon him—at some point in time he no longer recalled—and the cap was clutched in his only fist.

"We have a daughter."

Snow clapped her hands together and David grinned. "Congratulations, Hook."

"She's not out of danger yet," Killian protested.

The Charmings' froze. "Emma or the baby?"

The pirate's eyebrows drew down over his eyes, dark and thick and a wall to hide behind as he brushed past them, in search of the NICU.

"Hook, where are you going?" cried Emma's mother.

"To see my daughter. I won't abandon her in her time of need."

David raced forward. "But what about Emma? She needs you too!"

Killian spun around on the heel of his boot then and marched back to the prince and princess. His teeth clenched and his voice came out with such venom and vigor that they both took a faltering step back.

"Emma is the strongest lass I have ever known. She's a survivor—I trust her to survive. And knowing my love, if she were awake to say it, she would order me to keep close to our newborn's side in this dire time."

His eyes blazing with determination and hidden fear, the pirate turned and walked away a final time, ignoring every shout that rang after him.

* * *

By God, she was ever so tiny.

Her fingers, her toes, her eyes, her nose. So small. So miniature. Killian could not stop staring at his newborn daughter through the NICU's glass. She had been placed almost immediately in an incubator following her birth. There were wires and tubes of all sorts stuck into that tiny body of hers; the sight made him squirm.

The name tag on the incubator read _Swan-Jones baby girl/ Born April 12._

He grabbed the first nurse that came to pass and peppered her with question after question. The nurse did not give up much information to go by, to siphon hope from, or to report back to the others.

"We're still doing tests," the nurse said over and over, each time with a hapless shrug. "We won't know anything for sure until we get the results back. Until then, she's safe. She's healthy. We'll let you know if that changes."

With those brief assurances in mind, the pirate stares through the glass into the incubator where his newborn lies sleeping, praying to a God he hasn't cared to acknowledge in nearly two centuries.

 _Live, lass. Live. You're a survivor like your mother and I, I can tell._

A hand on his shoulder and a voice at his ear pulled Killian out of his prayers.

It was Henry.

"Mom's awake."


End file.
